Living After Death
by howitshould'vehappened
Summary: A continuation, picking up right where Hallows left off... Follows Harry through what happens before and how he ends up at the epilogue
1. Chapter 1

The air around Harry began to settle at last as the final breath of battle died out completely. It was over. He had won; Voldemort was dead. He had dreamt of this moment since he first met Voldemort 7 years ago in the Forbidden Forest. Since he learned that it was Voldemort responsible for killing his parents. Since he saw the flash of green hit Cedric Diggory, the painful laugh take away his god-father. And yet now, as Voldemort has been dead for hours, all Harry feels is an impenetrable emptiness. All he wants is to curl up into the small cupboard under the staircase at Number 4 Privet Drive, to go home, to a home that was never really home at all. To escape, pretend that none of this has happened. Then, why would he care if Fred Wesley was dead, or Remus or Tonks. What would he care if Snape loved his mother. What would her care if he never knew them in the first place. The pain of the loss he had experienced in this past day, or furthermore in the last 17 years, now seemed to far outweigh the victory of the war.

He fell to his knees, facing the castle which once seemed home to him, now a misshapen grave, and watched from a distance as small figures began to clean up the hopeless disaster that was Hogwarts. He did not try to hide his tears anymore, they fell unashamedly from his cheeks and splattered on the ash covered stone ground. He was taken back to a year ago, when then he also cried openly over the body of Albus Dumbledore. He tried to remember what had gotten him to stand that night, what had given him strength to face another day, to overcome the pain. He tried to recall what, in the face of such horror, had given him hope. He couldn't stand to look at the castle, he dug his face into his worn palms.

Most people believe that when you win, everything is suddenly solved. As if the joy of victory can be somehow felt over the unbearable shattering of every last bit of his heart. Nothing is ever won, for every gain there is a hundred times a loss. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be, this is just another punishment. What was the point now? How was he supposed to go on. It is finished, he completed his goal, everything is done. So why go on? He was alone and hollow. Nothing.

A sharp scream filled the air in a sudden gasp. Harry looked up, reaching for his newly repaired wand before needing to stop himself. There was no fear anymore. No danger to scream of. Perhaps it was a scream of pain from someone who had been injured. Hopefully it was joy. Whatever the source, it came from someone who had been graced with immense luck, Harry knew this because they must have been alive, and that was luck itself. What has his life come to? Is there life anymore at all?

Is this a dream? It had to be a dream. There is no way that this is reality. Something is missing, something has gone. Everything has gone. Everyone. Maybe he should go. Maybe he should run off, live in the forest, live alone. He has already hurt them so much, everyone, he wanted so desperately to remove the trouble from their lives, when he is the trouble. He is the cause, he is the pain. Was? Sirius did it, he remembered. When he was on the run, he went off, lived in the forest. Out of sight. Harry had done it before too, not to long ago at all. He though about what had just happened in the forest, how he had just been in the Forbidden Forest, how he had just died. No, okay not a good idea.

So where was he supposed to go?

Neither can live while the other survives. He understood it now, he could never live. Since he has survived, he can not live. Not truly, not really. Surviving is not living, surviving only means you have the prolonged capability of keeping air in your lungs. Living means loving, means smiling and enjoying each breath you take. He wasn't living, only looking to the future with dread. At least he had a future, even if it was now unwanted. He used to look forward to it, when he called his home a cupboard under the stairs and when he had nothing to be thankful for, he liked to think of freedom and of what that meant for his future.

In truth, he has lost. And what was worse than losing is that everyone else thinks that he has won. They expected him to win, and in their eyes he has, but he knew the truth, he lost completely. There are no winners. Only survivors.

He felt warmth before she even reached him. Harry looked up from his hands, she was walking towards him steadily. Her face was solid. He could tell that she had not cried this entire time, but something in how her lips were drawn tight, told Harry that she very much wanted to. To Harry, it was as if all the world was dark and drowning and she was light, she came from before him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sometimes surviving is all we need," She reminded him carefully. She knew that she had to be gentle, he might fall apart completely in her arms. But it wasn't he who collapsed. She buried her face into his neck. And as if she had finally reached security, she began to weep.

Harry had seen Ginny cry before, but never like this. It was as if all the hurting she had been holding in for the last year finally became to much. Harry knew she had kept strong, Luna had told him of how she had been so selfless to everyone while he left her. She was a warrior, through and through. She had been strong and she had kept her head up, her guard was powerful, and yet now, as Harry knew, it was her turn to let her walls come tumbling down, it was her turn to not have to be everyone else's strength. He fell back off of his knees and managed to pull her closer to him.

She had lost him once today, that was enough. She had seen him dead at the feet of a murderer. She saw his body limp and himself gone. She lost him, and yet somehow he came back to her again, he aways comes back to her, he always will. It was unclear whether she was crying out of relief that she was finally safe in his arms, or if the day had simply just now taken it's toll on her. All Harry knew was that for the second time in the past day, he felt the overwhelming need to protect her, to punish those who hurt her. And yet, he realized, he had already done that, they were already dead, and the only one left who had hurt her, was him.

Eventually, when her tears were dry, or maybe she had just simply run out, they began to stand. Harry didn't realize, though he must have been kneeling on the ground for a long time, for now his knees cracked and ached when he straightened them out. Together, they turned and began to walk towards the great hall, Ginny slightly behind him, both with their arms somehow still around each-other. The castle creaked with the weight of life, the doors seemed much heavier than Harry could ever remember, the floors echoed more audibly than ever. Harry was nearly convinced that no other life remained in the long, dark corridors, though he was proven wrong upon entering the hall. It was a relief to see that all the lifeless bodies had been removed from the room. Now, only the living remained. This was life now. Harry found Neville leaning against a wall talking to Luna and a woman that Harry recognized immediately. But Harry didn't focus on the woman who saved his life, instead he was captivated by what she was holding in her hands.

"My sister," Narcissca Malfoy cried out, "dead! I didn't, I don't, my poor sister. I loved- the baby, Dora's son, I, she told me to- Harry." Narcissca broke into tears and backed away.

But Ginny seemed in a rush to not let her go too far. She stepped out in-front of Harry and hurried over to the lady now in hysterics, she very easily reached out and grabbed the blue-harried infant from her. Little Teddy, orphaned and yet who Harry vowed would never know a life of war. Luna came forward and explained what had happened. Harry, who didn't look up at his friend but steadied his gaze on his God-son, who looked back up at him from Ginny's cradled arms. He saw so much of Tonks in him, but even more of Remus. He thought of Remus instantly, who just hours before had stood before him, a ghost brought on by the resurrection stone. "Andromeda died," luna said softly, "broken heart we suppose, loss of her husband and daughter. Poor dear. Narcissca went to see her, to reconcile, but she was too late. Her last request was for Mrs. Malfoy to bring Teddy here, to you, Harry." Harry tried to look up to Narcissca to give her his condolences, but he still couldn't look away from Teddy, and from Ginny holding him. So it was Ginny who spoke to comfort the woman, who had just lost both of her sisters, one of which Harry was truly glad to see die.

Moved however, Harry looked up and stared at Mrs. Malfoy and very sincerely said, "thank you." He knew she understood that his thanks goes beyond for her bringing Teddy to him, though he could see the wonder in Ginny's eyes.

Harry looked around the room now, looking to see who had survived, or rather, who had not. He began to wonder about what Dumbledore had said, how he could choose if he wanted to come back. Why did he choose? Why did he want this, he couldn't. Everything, even life, now, was dead. Everyone moved slowly, cautiously. He kept looking, searching for someone.

"Teddy!" Harry heard someone call out in a very heavily french accent, sure enough Fleur was running towards them, well not so much as running but gliding quickly. She had the largest smile on her face, and Harry noticed it looked as if she was about to cry with glee. "Teddy! Mon doux bebe! Permettez-moi de le tenir?" She asked holding out her hands, Ginny handed Teddy over rather reluctantly.

"Potter," Harry heard a sharp voice call behind him. He turned and as he did it took a minute for take in Professor Mcgonagall, who stood behind him notably disheveled and exhausted. "Potter," she said again, "a word?"She motioned for him to come follow her, which he did, though it took a lot of energy to let go of Ginny. He followed her down a long corridor which he knew led to the Headmaster's office. The griffin opened without waiting for a password the two walked swiftly up to the office. Once Dumbledore's ,then Snape's, Harry had spent a lot of time in this office, was it really only seven hours ago when he stood at the pensive here discovering the truth about Severus Snape? And then after that with Ron and Hermione, fixing his wand. Mcgonagall sat in one chair that he had never actually seen anyone use off in a deep corner of the room, and Harry took the other. Professor Mcgonagall drew herself a glass of water out of thin air and relaxed her posture in such a bizarre opposite fashion then she had ever done before.

"Potter," she said though she sounded as though she may fall asleep any moment, "I wanted to fill you in on what has been going on these last hours while you were gone. I first off, I wish to thank you." She looked as if she wanted to say more, wanted to elaborate on her thanks, and yet no words were needed. Harry knew he would be receiving thanks, after all it is he that killed Tom Riddle, he who ended the fight for good, and yet it seemed horribly out of place, as if by giving thanks, they are too thanking him for killing their loved ones, thanks for causing harm. No thanks was necessary. He no more a hero than any other person who fought, especially not more than Ron, Hermione and Neville, who themselves killed parts of Voldemort.

All of a sudden, it occurred to him, he had not seen his best friends since he said that he would meet up with them later, when they were on the bridge, and that was hours ago. "As you may notice the absence of Mrs. Granger and Mr. Weasley, they asked me to tell you that they went to Australia,"Mcgonagall explained making it seem as though she was reading his mind. Of course! Harry thought to himself, Hermione's parents, she can now restore their memories! He was elated with the thought of Hermione being reunited with her mum and dad. Harry nodded, to show he understood.

"You must know Potter, we lost a great amount of people tonight, but please know, they fought willingly and died for good cause, do not blame yourself," she warned. "The bodies have been laid in the dungeons for the time being, and families have been asked to claim their loved ones so that proper burials might be had. The school will reopen next fall, with the option for students to repeat or remake their past year, as no exams will be held this year and as far as we are all concerned, the school year is over. Most students have already made their way home, or are being put up in Hogsmeade for the time being until they can be picked up. Preparations are being made to restore the castle, and clean up the grounds. I wanted to ask you potter," Mcgonagall continued, "what exactly happened tonight?"

So Harry told her everything, about the horcruxes and the hallows, he told her about how he actually did die, may have died. He told her about Snape and the truth behind Dumbledore's death and his will. He told everything and she looked at him, not moving once, not interrupting but simply taking in all the answers she had longed for. When he had finally finished, he took a deep breath and waited for her to respond, and when she did he was alleviated. "Well,"she said sitting back up straightly, "I dare say, you have bravery unmatched." She stood up and gestured towards the door, permitting Harry to leave, but before he did, she patted his shoulder ever so slightly, as if to say "Job well done."

Before leaving the room, Harry looked intently at a portrait hanging above the headmistress' chair. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood iconic in his frame, nodding slowly. Harry knew this was his reaction to what had happened to Harry, it was all Harry needed to hear, he had done it right.

When Harry stepped out of the office, Fred, or was it George, was waiting for him. No, Harry thought, it was not Fred, Fred was dead. "George," Harry ran over to him but the sole Twin didn't look up.

His skin was scorched with pain, it was visible. He spoke, and when he did, it was as if every last vocal chord was strained, his voice was rough and unrecognizable. "C'mon Harry, they're waiting for us at home." Harry grabbed George's arm and they spun in place. Hogwarts morphed into the living room of the burrow, though the mood did not shift at all. Everything was still heavy.

George walked off without a word, Harry knew it wouldn't be right to force him into conversation, and besides he didn't feel up to talking either. Harry looked over his shoulder and found Mrs. Weasley against the far wall, She was struggling to smile at her guest while she opened her arms to greet him. Harry didn't want Mrs. Weasley's hug to end, he felt guilty but she was his mother now, she had always treated him like a son, and after finally being able to see his real mother, and losing her once more, he needed this. He let himself be young in her arms until he heard a shuffling from the kitchen. "Mum?" He heard Ron's voice. Harry ran towards the kitchen and instinctively caught Hermione right as she landed perfectly into his grasp. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. Ron walked past them to his mother, who Harry heard begin to choke up.

To think that only two months ago the pair of them were hiding out in the Forest of Dean. They were safe now, the very idea was inconceivable. "You did it!" Hermione gasped, "It's over."

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley called out, "How are your parents?" Hermione let go of Harry, allowing Ron to greet his friend while Hermione went over to Mrs. Weasley.

"They are great! And their memory is back!" Hermione smiled brightly.

"Yeah, they weren't very happy that it was ever gone," Ron announced. Harry felt a tinge in his stomach. He would never have that. No matter how much he looked to Mrs. Weasley as a mother, she wasn't his. But he couldn't think of lily, because if he did, he would begin to think of James, and Sirius, and Lumpin, and Snape and Dumbledore, and Peter Pettigrew, and thus, Tom Riddle. And if he thought of Riddle, he would think of everyone who died in the past day, everyone who has died because of he-who-must-not-be-named. Harry felt the term was ironic now, calling such a common man, one that mustn't be named. Fear of the name, he reminded himself. Harry wondered quietly if people would start referring to Tom as Voldemort now? Or was it still taboo? The three people around him were still talking, slowly, as if a single word could set off a storm of emotion. Harry didn't care to listen, instead he let his thoughts take him over.

He still couldn't figure out what he was supposed to do now? What was he supposed to go back to school? He couldn't imagine walking in the corridors, let alone sitting in a potions class now. Where was he to live? Number 12 Grimwald Place was not an option, it had too many difficult memories of Sirius, and the order, and RAB. Would the Dursley's be moving back to their prized home now? Perhaps the cupboard was still vacant, Harry trailed off. "Mrs. Weasley," he barely heard Hermione ask, "where is Mr. Weasley, and Ginny?" It was Ginny's name that caught his attention, he would like to know where she was as well.

Mrs. Weasley let go of hermione, who she was still hugging, and walked over to the stove. She took a pan down from the rack above her and began to prepare a meal. "She is at Shell Cottage, Arthur is there with her now."

It was odd news, but Harry at least was glad she was safe, that is all he asked for. Ron nodded his head and started to speak again but hermione cut him off, "Mrs. Weasley, when are they coming home?" Harry's ears perked up again. Why did hermione care? Harry thought it was obvious that she would be home in the morning at the latest, but Mrs. Weasley had a different idea. The women turned to the three of them. Ron who stood next to Harry and Hermione siting in front of them at the table. Her face was horrified, as if something grave was about to happen. He wanted to remind her that nothing more dire could happen, everything was already done. He realized in that moment that this is how it was going to be for a while, looking over your shoulder, flinching at the mere thought of danger.

"Aurthur should be home any minute," she hesitated and then turned away from them again.

"With Ginny?" Hermione egged on.

"Of course with Ginny," Ron answered surely. Hermione knew better, Harry wanted so desperately to think like Ron, but he trusted Hermione, so Mrs. Weasley's answer did throw him too off guard.

"No, Ginny won't be coming-" She took a deep breath, "she won't be coming home for a while."

"Why?" Ron shouted. At the sound of his shout, Mrs. Weasley dropped the glass she was holding, spilling some ingredient all over the floor and stove. She turned to her younger son with a very cross look on her face. She didn't even bother to clean the mess, she walked away, up the stairs.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted standing up and pulling out her wand.

"Why?" Harry mumbled after processing what had happened.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. Ron walked over and sat casually on the crowded counter and hermione went back to the table. Harry remained standing waiting for his answer. After about 10 minutes, it was Ron who spoke.

"Harry, what happened? I mean with Voldemort." His voice was hesitant. Ron and Hermione were used to knowing things, the full truth to every story the daily prophet could only guess about. But this was not something they would know. They didn't need to know, and Harry didn't need to talk about it, not now anyways. Something about this whole situation seemed odd, as if nothing had changed. Him, Ron and Hermione alone after some battle, them asking for the truth, Harry letting them know what no one else would. It was an old routine. But something had changed.

"You don't have to tell us," Hermione told him, she must have known he wasn't going to.

"Why isn't Ginny coming?" He changed the subject back.

"They want her to heal. Honestly, I think they just need her to be away from us, and George. But," Hermione was hesitating now too, "Harry, you didn't see her." Harry wanted to correct her, he had seen Ginny, she had come out to find him, he had seen her cry, he knew she was hurt. "When he, brought out your- your," she paused and looked down in attempts to hide a the tears which have begun streaming down her cheeks, "when you weren't awake, she lost it. I mean, don't get me wrong, we all did, and I hated seeing-," the tears grew heavier.

"Me and Hermione were prepared for that," Ron carried on, "we knew there was always a chance of it. So when it happened, we were able to handle it for the most part, we knew there was more to be done, more Horcruxes to destroy, and ultimately Voldemort. We had a plan and we knew what we had to do."

"But not Ginny," Hermione continued, "she didn't know what exactly was going on. All she knew is that you," she stopped again, "and she broke down." Harry remembered hearing the screams when he was in Hagrid's arms, but he never looked up to see how much destruction was really taking place. "Harry, his advantage was always knowing how to destroy people, how to break them down to absolutely nothing. He knew your weakness, it was us, the people you loved, your heart. Ginny was at the greatest threat because of it."

"But he didn't know about Ginny, Snape-" Harry began, but hermione didn't listen.

"We had always tried to keep Ginny a secret from him, we knew that if he knew about how you two felt about each other, he would kill her. Snape, I assume, knew this too. He may not have liked us, and we know that Voldemort knew about Ron and I but Snape, along with the rest of us, made sure he never knew Ginny as anything more than a girl with a crush."

"And when you-," Ron began but hermione made a grunt, so that he wouldn't say the word. "Well she reacted in a way we all would have expected her too."

"But it would have given her away to Voldemort." Hermione cut him off, "Some people screamed, other's cried, most people didn't know what to do, there was shouting and people were outraged, but Ginny reacted differently than everyone. She started to run to you, but George had to grab her and pull her back, and cover her mouth so Voldemort wouldn't turn his attention to her. But she fought him, trying to break free, and _he_ started to notice, that's why Neville stepped forward, to protect Ginny. She had gotten away from George, she was running and he pushed her down and continued the pursuit for her."

"He would've killed her for sure, as one last means to scare everyone into obeying him. It would be like taking the very last thing you had. He settled for Neville, but of course, it didn't work. Ginny regrouped a little bit, of course, she fought too, in the hall, and-" Harry didn't need to be told further, he knew what happened in the great hall. It felt it too, when he saw the killing curse nearly hit Ginny, when he set off towards her, willing to reveal his own identity to kill Bellatrix. Perhaps Tom Riddle discovered his heart in that moment, that Ginny was more than the girl he once knew to have a crush on Harry. Maybe he put Ginny in the most danger then, maybe Riddle was then able to confirm his thoughts, but it didn't matter if he knew at that point, it was too late. Harry tried to think of how it would've gone if Neville didn't push Ginny down, if it had been her to charge Riddle instead, but he couldn't bring himself to imagine it.

Harry remembered Ginny's breakdown, how she cried when he held her, he knew the pain she felt. But she seems better, after, when they went back inside, when she was holding Teddy. She seemed to have pulled herself back together. There must have been something he missed. Why would she need to stay at the cottage? Were they trying to keep her from him? What good would that do?

"It would be best for her to be here," Harry said simply. And it was true, at least for him. He needed to be with her, she was his rock.

Hermione leaned over the table and kissed the top of his head, "I am going to bed, you both should as well." Hermione went over to Ron and he kissed her on the lips. Harry had to look away. It wasn't fair, that they had each other that Mr. Weasley had Mrs. Weasley. Bill was with Fleur. Why couldn't he have Ginny? He had to stop himself, as if not having his girlfriend to say goodnight to was the greatest of his problems. He stood up and walked up the stairs behind Hermione, Ron promised to follow shortly, he wanted to lock the house up. _What for?_ Harry thought,_ we already survived._


	2. Chapter 2

"Wake up!" Hermione called from the doorway. "Wake up!" Harry rolled over, not wanting to have to leave his bed. He felt as if he had been asleep forever. He could hear her walking over, and was expecting when she jumped on top of his bed and began to shake him. "Harry wake up right now!"

"Wha-!" He yelled. But Hermione kept shaking him.

"Harry they're almost here!" She jumped off of him and ran back down the stairs. Who? Harry stood up slowly, not exactly sure of what was going on. It was still dark outside, the moon was his only source of light as he stumbled to find his robe and made his way to the hall. He tripped off the bottom stair and nearly fell face first into the kitchen. Everyone was up, well except George had fallen back asleep at the table. Mrs. Weasley was waiting in the back door way, looking out to the black horizon and Ron and Hermione were standing behind her looking anxious.

All of a sudden the entire kitchen was set aglow in a familiar blue hue. Someone must have just arrived by port key. Molly rushed into the night, her aim direct. Ron and Hermione followed suit. George moved more sluggishly, turning to Harry, who was still at the staircase, and tossing him a very distinct look, that Harry knew well. It was the look he always makes at Ron and Hermione, or Bill and Fluer. It was the look that told him who the guests were. He had just walked down the back steps when he saw her. The port key had landed some 90 meters away from the house and the everybody had already greeted the new arrivals.

Molly already had her hands pinched at Ginny's solid face, but Ginny looked beyond her mother. Her eyes met Harry's naturally, and he saw the most amazing passion in them. Ginny stepped away from her mother and in the same instant she was running towards him. She didn't look away from him and her eyes had the most blazing look in them. She didn't even blink as she threw herself into his arms, which opened automatically to allow her in. She wrapped her trembling legs around his waist and dug her face into his couldn't feel the world around him, he couldn't think of anything but her, and it was the first moment of peace he had experienced in a while. He hadn't seen her in three weeks, not since she had walked him back into the great hall.

Time stopped as he held her. Everyone around them didn't matter anymore, not her parents or his friends, it was only the two of them. He could feel her beating heart against his, and he knew that he loved her. He loved her with such a intense passion, that he could never love anyone the way he loved her. He leaned into her ear and whispered "I am so sorry." He was sorry for all he had done to her, all the death he has caused, all the loss, for dying. She lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes, in which she saw herself, and with such an consuming rage, kissed him.

"Why don't you loves get a room?" George laughed though Ron didn't seem to find it so funny. Ginny let the kisses fade, but she didn't let go of Harry.

"Can we talk?" she asked sincerely. Harry nodded and she hopped down, grabbed his arm, and dragged him over to the wall on the perimeter of the burrow. She sat down in the grass in-front of the wall and he sat next to her and waited for her to speak, but she didn't. He knew what this meant, she wanted to know.

"No," Harry said simply. Ginny looked down, but she wasn't giving up so easily.

"I just, I want to know, it will help ease my mind," She ran her fingers through her hair, "I need you to tell me. I need to know how close I really was."

"How close you were to what?"

"To losing you." Ginny looked up then, showing a face that was laced in tears. That was it, she won.

"How much do you want to know?" He said leaning back to look at the stars. She leaned back too and put her head on his chest.

"All of it." And so he told her, all of it. From the moment they got to Hogwarts that night all the way up to when he and George left. He told her in even more detail than he had to Mcgonagall, as he spoke, images of memories surpassed for weeks danced before him. He felt that night, recalled it with such delicate accuracy. He hadn't spoken about it since. He didn't hold anything back from her, not the smallest detail was spared. She didn't move a muscle, didn't make a sound until she was sure he was done. He almost forgot she was there, or where he was all together. His mind completely escaped him, venturing off into a past world. It didn't even feel real. None of it did, not anymore. All if seemed like was a very bad dream, something he thought of one night. He still had to remind himself every morning when he woke up that it happened. After all, it becomes very easy to take such an event for fiction when it takes up all your dreams at night anyway.

Some people think that when something so catastrophically horrid happens, it would be impossible for anyone to ever forget it, but it is quite the opposite actually. He does forget it, constantly. He has found that because it was something so catastrophic, it seems to fictional to actually be real. Like when he learned he was a wizard, he would still wake every morning not sure as to why he wasn't looking up at the underside of a staircase.

When a life changing thing happens, your mind sometimes needs adjusting to the new life. It is a little slower, you see. When he was done, all she did was tilt her head so that she could see his face. She was beautiful. The moon caught her skin perfectly, giving it life. There was something about her that stunned him, he couldn't quite figure it out. They could hear the faint sounds of someone calling their name, perhaps from the kitchen, but they didn't respond immediately. "I like to think sometimes," she said quietly, "That none of this past year happened. I like to pretend that Fred never died, and the battle never took place. I like to wake up in the morning and not remind my self right away that I live the life I do. I sometimes try to convince my self that I am in 5th year again, and we just won the quiditch match, and I kissed you for the first time. I think that is the last time I was truly happy." She laid her head back down on his chest, he heard her murmur silently, "you died." before the one who had been calling them finally located them, it was Hermione.

"They are literally about to kill you both, come on!" Ginny got up and once and looked back at Harry who didn't exactly feel like going in. She looked at Hermione who nodded and sat down next to Harry. Ginny left the two of them to go inside. "Oh, so she gets to know and I don't?" She said jokingly.

"Who said she knows anything?" Harry sat up but didn't meet Hermione's eyes.

"Oh shut up, you told her, I am not stupid." No, she definitely wasn't stupid, he couldn't argue that.

"The curses backfired, we fell to the ground, I saw an opportunity to play dead, to trick him, it worked." He said sharply. She wasn't convinced, he could tell. But if this was what he wanted to go with, she would back him up, she wouldn't argue either. Though he could also tell she was let down that someone else knew something she didn't.

"I have been meaning to tell you, I am going to be staying in Australia for a while, with Mum and Dad, just for a while. Until things here begin to return to, well, settle down."

"Seems fitting," he told her honestly. Hermione deserved time with her parents, after what she had gone through to ensure their safety."

Hermione beamed at his response, "okay," she acted as if she was relieved, "well I supposed, now that Ginny was home-." she stopped there, before the sentence was over. Now that Ginny was home, he wouldn't need her as much. Harry found that he relied on Hermione a great deal, and she on he. With Ron here, of course, she didn't need him so much, but Harry had no-one else to lean on. Of course, there was always Ron but he never needed Ron like he needed Hermione, she was his sister, they understood each other perfectly. "Now, really come on, they want us all back in bed. It's two in the morning, you know." She jumped up and grabbed his arm and pulled him up too. They trotted back in the house where a very cross Mrs. Weasley was waiting by the back door, looking very annoyed with Harry.

"Bed!" she ordered them, and they obeyed, not missing a beat as they hurried up the tight stair case, Hermione to Ginny's room and Harry to Ron's.

Harry found Ron sitting on his bed, readily awake. "Hermione in too?" He asked. Harry was still getting used to Ron and Hermione being a couple, even though it was bound to happen eventually, and he had seen it coming for almost two years now. He nodded and went to sit on his own bed. "And Ginny?" he nodded again. Yes, everyone could rest now.

***The air was cold, but not too cold, or not really cold at all. Really it shouldn't have been cold, she shouldn't have been shivering. And yet she was. Her very bones rattled uncontrollably. The air was warm, like it had been set afire and was just now left in smolders, but everything else was damp. In front of her was a never ending sea of black robes, figures with hoods that blocked everything from her. Everything apart from the sky, which was so black it might not have even existed. All around her, the sound of a very high pitched and menacing voice was laughing unceasingly. She was on the ground, her hands supporting her, laid in a pool of thick blood.

"Dead!" she heard the laughing voice say, as if the word itself possessed great amusement for it. "It is over! Set him down," it demanded. "It's over!" the line repeated over and over in the thickness around her. All of a sudden, the sea in front of her parted, revealing her to be in a forest. It was oddly familiar to her, though she couldn't place it's name. On the ground, just before her, a body lay face down in the mud. She waited for him, to stand up and brush off the dust from his hands, but he didn't move. She felt a cold hand come onto her shoulder, and turned to find it was right behind her, the laughing one. He leaned down toward her, so close that their noses would have been touching if he possessed such a feature, "You, girl," he snarled, "I remember you. I own you, now, like always. You silly, little, girl." His voice was snake like, his words slithered across her mind.

"No!" she screamed out in pain. She reached out to the body in-front of her, his hair was a mess and his glasses were snapped nearly in half. He looked like he could be sleeping, like if she just touched him he would wake up. Before she could wake him though, the scene changed again, she was now in a stone room. The boy in front of her had sat up, but it wasn't him anymore. "I win," Tom hissed at her. "Let's play a game." she could hear him taunt her, though his lips were sewn shut. She took off running, down a long passage, she didn't know where it lead to. But what was at the end didn't matter after all, her foot caught on something under her, and she went sliding down on her stomach, the whole earth shook.

"Ginny!" someone was shaking her awake. Good, she thought, it wasn't real. She opened her eyes to find her brother, one of the twins, she didn't think of which, standing above her. He was dressed in a black suit, very somber. " Come on, you need to get dressed, it is almost time to go."

"Go where?" she asked sitting up on her bed. She looked around and found a black robe hanging on her dresser. "Is there a funeral?" she asked confounded. "I thought they had all finished."The day had yet to truly catch up with her. She had trouble thinking, had trouble moving.

"Gin," he sighed, "come on, everyone has already gone, I'm to bring you." He left the room and left her to dress. She got up and got dressed like she was told. And hurried downstairs to meet the her brother. Upon seeing her he held out his hand and she took it willingly, glad to have his comfort, though she couldn't figure out why exactly.

"Who?" she whispered silently to herself.

"Hm?" He leaned his head over and placed his ear right at her lips.

"Whose Funeral?" she asked just as silently.

"Look Gin," he stood straight again, "You don't have to come, we understand. It'd be hard for you, to see him again." She shook her head and turned with him on the spot. The funeral was packed, though Ginny couldn't find a friendly face anywhere. Finally she spotted Hermione crouched down in the middle of the aisle. She was hunched over, her head in her lap, her back moving very quickly as if she was sobbing irrationally. The body was in front of her, Ginny couldn't quite make out whose it was. Whoever it was, they were gone. She tried to remember, Fred's service, Tonks and Remus' service, Snape, Lavender, no everyone had already had their funerals, days ago. There must have been someone she was forgetting, the very idea of which made her sick. Who then was so unimportant that she couldn't even remember their passing?

She went over to Hermione and reached out to lift her off the ground. Hermione took her hand and stood up so slowly. She turned to Ginny, and upon seeing the girl before her, her tears worsened. "Oh Ginny," she sobbed. Ginny felt the need to cry, to join in the emotion, but she still couldn't really figure out what was going on. She turned bravely towards the body, now fully visible, and instantly wished she hadn't.

"No!" she screamed out in pain, true pain this time. Pain that would never end. "No, you didn't! No!" she let go of Hermione and stumbled towards the boy. He looked like he could be sleeping, like if she just touched him he would wake up. She put her hands to his face, but he didn't react. She moved them down to his shoulders and shook him lightly, but still, nothing. "No! Wake up! Wake up! No, you need to," she couldn't breathe, "you need to wake up!"

She couldn't take her eyes off of him, she couldn't let him go. She leaned down into his chest, still keeping her eyes on him, waiting for him to jerk awake. "Harry," she called to him as a tear streamed carefully down her face and onto his still body, "I love you." Saying the words aloud made them real all of a sudden, but she was too late. Her brother came and grabbed her, and began to drag her away, but she fought him. She didn't want to let Harry go, as if taking her eyes off of him for even a moment would make everything suddenly real, force her to remember. To remember his death, remember Voldemort dangling him in front of all of Hogwarts. Of course, Voldemort was dead, Ron and Hermione killed him, she remembered. He was so close, so close to surviving, to keeping his life. She screamed so loud that everyone in attendance turned to look at her, to find what was wrong. She fell to her knees before his body, still screaming, unable to control the tears and horrible sounds that were coming out of her. Hands kept pulling her, tugging, trying to get her away from him, but she was stronger.

How had she not remembered? It was like she was learning of his death all over again for the first time. Had she really convinced herself that he had lived? "I win," she could hear Tom Riddle's voice echoing from her nightmare. Eventually, she knew, she would have to let go, say goodbye. Maybe she would move on. George came forward, along with Bill, and together they lifted her completely off the ground. Kicking and still screaming, they dragged her to her seat and held her down forcefully. She couldn't listen to the service, to the words being said. All she could do was look at him. Wait for him to wake up. The service was short, no one really wanted to go into detail, she wasn't alone in wanting to pretend it never happened. When it was over, they allowed her one more moment with him, before they would take him off for his burial. She walked up to him much more sturdily this time. Her heart racing like it did the first time she kissed him, when she ran into his arms after the match. How she wished she could be in that moment now.

She was still crying, and he was still sleeping. She reached out to him one last time, held his head in her hands. She leaned down to him and kissed him guardedly on the lips. "Wake up," she begged him once more. He didn't listen.

They took her away again, only this time she obeyed. She fell into the arms that had taken her and let her comforter hold her like she was young again. "Wake up," she kept repeating, over and over, hoping maybe Harry would hear her, maybe it would decide to give up this cruel game.

"Gin!" She looked up at Fred, who was also crying, "wake up."***

Her body was shaking uncontrollably, which may have been worse than the screams that had woken them all. Harry was kneeled down next to her bed, smoothing back her hair, trying to get her to wake up. Hermione was crouched in the corner crying, Molly was at the door in shock. The other's Ron and Arthur, stood at the foot of the bed, meaning to be helpful. It was George who acted the most, he was leaned over Ginny, shaking her calling to her to wake up. It seemed a hopeless fight, the screaming had started almost thirty minutes ago. Harry had gotten to the room first, perhaps because while everyone else had to take a moment to wake up, he never fell asleep. He came into the room, not caring that it was supposed to be off limits to the boys, and he found Hermione was standing staring at Ginny utterly speechless. Ginny was incoherent, as if she was seizing. She was mumbling things, like dead, and at one point she yelled out "I win." It was looking as if at one point she was finally calmed down, as if she had fought off the nightmares which plagued her, but it only lasted a moment before things got much worse. It was then that it became clear the subject of which she was dreaming of, and Harry instantly regretted telling her everything. She belted out his name so loud that it shook the entire house. Her screams until her eyes swung open. The screaming halted instantly, though still no one calmed down.

"What now, Fred?" she gasped awkwardly. At Fred's name, George let go of her and tumbled back towards the wall, now in shock like his mother. It was Arthur who stepped forward now. He sat down and took his daughter in his arms. She submitted and cried into his shoulder.

Harry couldn't handle another second of it, he rushed out of the room before anyone could form together what had happened, but Ron was already getting there. He followed Harry out into the hall, and they were far enough away so that Ginny's cries no longer flooded their ears, Ron grabbed Harry by the arm. "What the bloody he-" He stopped when Hermione grabbed his arm, "What did you tell her?" He demanded. Hermione pushed Ron out of the way and went to hug Harry, but he backed up. He couldn't speak or even think. He kept backing up, though it only took about three steps before he was finally at the wall. At which point, Hermione pulled him into her embrace.

Mrs. Weasley came out of the room looking more distraught than anyone. She couldn't meet Harrys eyes. She looked down at the floor, as if maybe there was a speck of dust she hadn't caught while dusting earlier. Mrs. Weasley cleaned incisively now days, from the moment she woke up until night fall, she always found some new mess to tidy. "She's not calmed down yet," she informed their awaiting looks, "she's convinced herself-."

"What?" Ron asked harshly.

"Harry, maybe it's best if she could see you, maybe it would help her remember," She took a very deep breath but didn't go on.

"She's thinking I am dead, isn't she?" Hermione let go of Harry and looked at him, trying to figure out how he came to this conclusion. Mrs. Weasley snuffled, as if to confirm his question. Harry went past all of them and the looks he was now receiving from his two best friends, into the room. George was back on Ginny's bed, sitting near her head, and Arthur remained where he was by her side. Upon seeing Harry come in, they both stood up, nodded intuitively, and left the room sharply.

Ginny laid down staring intently at the ceiling. Her entire body was absolutely drenched in sweat, or was it tears. Her hair was the most disheveled Harry had ever seen. Her light rose colored tee-shirt had shrunk to blend with her skin and all of her sheets were thrown off of her. She didn't look around to see where everyone had gone, or who was now approaching. "Ginny," his voice came out softly, though if voice croaked as if it hadn't been used in a long time. Upon hearing him, she instantly fell back into sobs. HE couldn't bare it. In one fluid motion, Harry lifted her up in his arms, slid under her, placed her in his lap, took her face in his hands, and forced her to see him. "It was only a dream."

But she refused to hear him. She shook her head violently, not wanting to hear. "No, it happened." he couldn't reject what she had said, it was true, after all he had died. And yet, he hadn't died. It was complicated convincing someone of a truth, that wasn't fully true at all.

"Yes," he agreed, "it did happen, but it's over now, it's not true anymore." she stopped shaking, and instead opted for a brief nod. That was completely true at least, it was over. "Ginny look at me."

"I am too tired," she insisted. He didn't speak then. He began to let her down, to give her rest, to leave. "No," she begged, "please don't leave me again. Stay with me."

He pulled her in as close as he could, letting her cocoon herself in his arms. "Always."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well that just doesn't make any sense," Ginny stated rather plainly as she maneuvered her way around the masses of people that crowded the streets of London.

"Oh really?" He said reaching out and taking her hand for fear of losing her in the mess of people. She may have learned to walk through a crowd, but Ginny had much more work to learn before passing as a true muggle, or at least to not get lost in their mist.

"Yes," her giggle was just audible over the noise of the city, "selling fire-whiskey on the streets to muggles is not a good idea, Harry, I assure you."

"Well why not?" He yanked her arm back so that she spun towards him, where his arms were open to catch her. "They'd love it!"

"They wouldn't be able to keep it down, it's made with potions to make it like it is, muggles wouldn't be able to handle it. Besides, I don't think it is a very promising career outlook. Definitely not something that you could build a life on, nor a family," her eyes narrowed suspiciously while saying the last word. "Now would you hurry up? We are going to be late!" She turned and carried onward in her previous direction. Harry nearly struggled to keep up with her and his needing to apologize to every person he accidentally bumped into did not help his trajectory at all. The crowd didn't ease up at all, in fact it only grew more dense as they went. He began to get the most unsettling feeling that they were being watched or at least that someone was staring at them.

He had been avoiding any contact with anyone who was absolutely nonessential to him in the wizardry world. This was the reason he had asked that the meeting take place in London, so that no wizard would recognize him. He was sick of attention, sick of onlookers watching his every move. Feeling them now, their eyes on him, made the whole plan seem a waste. Could he not go anywhere without being Harry Potter, the boy who somehow was still living. The further they went on, the stronger he felt the eyes of whoever following his every single step. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, he turned his head slightly and looked over his shoulder. It wasn't long before he located his stalker, and when he did he froze in his tracks.

He didn't notice as Ginny's fingers slipped slowly from his, as she continued on towards their destination, not realizing that her love had detoured completely. Now, it was not just the other one who was starring, but Harry was now completely locked on him. He couldn't advert his eyes. The boy seemed as if he had lost weight, he had less chins, Harry could tell. He was dressed nice, in a newly ironed suit and matching tie and his hair was gelled oddly back. The girl, who's arm was interlinked with his, looked at him confused at what had gotten him so distracted. Obviously she didn't know him very well, he is anything but one who knows how to maintain concentration.

Big D took the girls hand and walked intently towards Harry. He, for one, didn't say sorry to the people he trampled over. "Ginny," Harry whispered, though she was far out of his reach now. Dudley Dursley came to a halt a foot from his cousin, he didn't say anything but only stuck out his hand, like he had done last year, the last time they saw each-other.

"Happy Birthday," Dudley said cooly, Harry was amazed he remembered.

"Er-," Harry babbled awkwardly. "Thanks Dud."

"Are you kidding me?" Harry was momentarily distracted by the fierce tone of Ginny's voice. He saw as she began wheezing her way through the bodies, unhappy that Harry let her be alone with so many muggles. She didn't make it obvious but he could tell she was panicked. Harry wrapped his arm loosely around her once she was in reach and brought her to Dudley's attention.

"Dud, this is my girlfriend, Ginny. Ginny, you'd remember Dudley," Harry paused for a brief moment, "my cousin." Harry could feel Ginny stand taller upon her apprehension of who stood before her. She shook his hand cordially, and he returned the gesture.

"It's so great to meet you!" Dudley actually looked genuinely delighted. Dudley then, in the same awkward tone as Harry introduced the girl at his side, Sarah. The girl looked confused at Harry calling Dudley his cousin, he was sure Dudley had never mentioned him. Though, apparently Sarah had heard of Harry, because the confused look swept off her face, leaving a face of pure outrage, "Harry? Your cousin? But you said he died. In May-." Dudley gulped. "In may, in the last week of the school year, you said you cancelled on our anniversary because your cousin, Harry, had died," she recounted accusingly. Harry couldn't help but think of Aunt Petunia when she spoke, they seemed to bare a strikingly similar resemblance.

"He did," Dudley said in a dumb-struck voice. "You died," he said under his breath turning back to Harry.

"Oh honestly Dudley Dursley," she began. Harry knew her tone, he knew it was an very strong indicator that something very foul would soon come from her mouth. That Dudley was in mighty trouble. "Well then tell me please how he is now alive? Is he a ghost? Huh, Dud? Did he die and come back to life? Oh I can't believe this, another lie! Really Dudley?"

Dudley didn't look at Sarah, he looked beyond confused. As if, no actually it was not as, but that his mind completely stopped working. Harry should've known that they, The Dursley's, would have been officially informed that their nephew had died, he only didn't think they would care. Or even if they did, wouldn't they have been thus notified when it turned out that he actually didn't die? Did the ministry simply find in unimportant to tell his only blood family that he was in fact not a corpse. Then again, he remembered, they weren't even family, not even by the most liberal meaning of the word. They were the people who once semi-housed him.

Sarah walked off briskly, and as she did Harry could almost swear he saw steam pillowing out of her ears. It occurred to him, suddenly, that Dudley had a girlfriend, and an anniversary in May, which would mean that Dudley had a girlfriend over a year ago, when Harry and he still lived under the same roof. Strange. Harry never imagined Dudley every having someone who liked him in any more than a "I am terrified of you so I will be friends with you so you don''t kill me" sort of way. Then he thought of wormtail.

"Who told you?" Harry asked Dud when Sarah was far off.

"It was Figg," He said plainly, "she knew where we were, she moved nearby when we did. She came over late at night, started banging on the door, through Dad and Mum into a hissy. When they opened the door, I saw she was in hysterics, she didn't even greet them, she just said you had died. She didn't explain much, or stay, she only said that she had just received word, she said that some order man told her, said he had been there but he fled to inform people. Then she hurried off."

"Figg?" Ginny turned to Harry, "As in Arabella Figg? The squib from your hearing?" Harry nodded, "Must have been, Diggle, He went off to find more fighters when-." Ginny stopped.

"When what?" Dudley looked confused and slightly left out of the conversation.

"When I died." Harry said simply. Ginny flinched next to him, he knew the topic bothered her, she didn't like to have to remember that day, remember Harry's dead body in front of her, lifeless. Remember the fear and sorrow she felt in the moment. Yet, trying not to remember it, only makes the memories worse. He recalled what Dumbledore once told him, That Fear of a name creates fear of the thing itself. Now, fear of the event was the enemy, creating nightmares in all those who instill it.

"Im confused," Dudley admitted.

"I did die, Figg wasn't lying. I guess she just didn't fill you in after the fact. I died and everyone knew I was dead. Only I was pretending. I had died, and come back to life, so that Vold-."

"Harry," Ginny interrupted him, reminding him that no one was supposed to know what he had not so carelessly told a muggle.

"Well you know Dud it is a very boring story, in fact." Dudley didn't seem to agree with him, he seemed rather interested, though he probably still didn't even comprehend it. "We should really get going," Harry explained, "and shouldn't you be getting back to your date?" Dudley's face snapped back into its usual expression, as if somehow the mention of his date brought him back into muggle reality.

"Right, well here," Dudley said holding out a small cream colored card, Harry took it cautiously. "Nice to meet you," he said to Ginny, "Happy Birthday, again." And with that Dudley stumbled away towards Sarah. Harry looked down at the card, which held only a phone number, he doubted he would ever use it.

"Well that was-," Ginny said to Harry as he took her hand and began to head back on their original route.

"Strange," Harry admitted, finishing her sentence. She moved her hand away and instead locked her arm to his, it would be harder for him to lose her now, he thought on the secondhand. "Is Kingsley there yet do you know?"

"Well he should've been there at four," She said rolling her eyes. Ginny didn't like to be late for things, even for things so casual as meeting Kingsley Shacklebolt for lunch. Such an event, she claims, is no longer casual due to his new title. Maybe it was due to his own status, but Harry was not one to be intimidated by anyone with power or fame, even if it was the Minister of Magic. He's learned that titles don't hold as much importance as does the true name of the person. The boy who lived, he who must not be named, the chosen one, the dark lord. All just titles, all just a means to make the person seem more unreal, as if they somehow held a deeper importance than any other human being. As if because he is called Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle is somehow more than a sad, disturbed orphan.

Fear of the Name.

They finally arrived at the restaurant, a small place run by a squib. Kingsley had called forth and secured the entirety of the restaurant to use, he claimed that if, as harry requested, they were to meet in the muggle world, then the must be out of range of any man who could overhear them. They settled for this small squib run place. Squibs are incredibly loyal, it is true, he has learned it through Figg, and even Filch. Perhaps it is because they are striving for acceptance, like house elves, loyal to those who have more, and yet not treated as much. Notably, the status of all magical creatures has enhanced greatly, though it is impossible to remove all judgements, especially in this short a time.

Hermione is working with the ministry to find new ways to relieve oppression on magical creatures, or so Harry is told. He hasn't actually spoken or seen hermione in two months, not since she left for Australia, though she is expected home any day now. Of course, not all magical creatures are in need of liberation, such as the house elves, who much prefer their work. Harry knew how much Dobby would have loved this new age in the wizardry world, though he also sees through kreacher that liberation is a personal opinion. The truth is, some people don't need to be free, or at least, they don't need what is titled as free. Freedom is different to everyone, depending on the person and situation. For instance, everyone believed that the death of Tom Riddle would bring about world wide freedom, and while for some it did, for Harry it brought nothing but the unsteady constant pain of loss and defeat.

The place was small,the drapes in the front were pulled tight. There was a man at the front, standing outside the door, looking stiff and slightly intimidating. What was the need to intimidate? Was he a muggle than? Harry knew of body guards like this in the muggle world, guards who could squint in a way that made one draw back in fear. Harry couldn't help but find it all a little bizarre. What could be so important that it require this much secrecy. Ginny and he walked up to the man, who didn't speak, but only stepped aside to let them in. Despite his appearance, it was all a stage show, this man was a wizard, not a body guard. No muggle would give Harry the look he just had.

Strange, isn't it, that when your life gets to the point which Harry's has, the mere look someone gives you can tell you who they are. There is a look, a recognition. Not a look of memory, not like they had met before, unless you count black print on the pages of a newspaper meeting, Harry did not. This man looked at Harry like he knew him, he might have even believed he did, most people think they do. But there are very few people who know Harry, very few who he cared to know.

The inside of the pub restaurant was tasteful, at best. It was very homey, with couches and mismatched chairs. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to a woman sitting on the floor. Her hair was so blonde, it was almost white. He couldn't see her face, but Fleur was a Weasley, and by such a part of those that he called family. He called them family, sure, but there was always a missing piece. Though he loved them, there was always something keeping him from being their equal. His true family was sitting on the floor in front of Fleur. His real family had blue flaming hair. Fleur turned as they walked in and jumped up to greet him. "'Arry!" Then she turned to her sister and hugged her. Harry moved past them to scoop Teddy off the ground. He had grown so much in the past two months, he sometimes didn't recognize him, the changing features didn't help much either.

"Hey Gin!" Bill called out, he was over by a fire place, with Kingsley, who also was getting on his feet. Charlie was here too, and besides him, there was only two more people, both of which Harry didn't recognize. They obviously recognized him though, and they were not ashamed to hide their amaze at being in the same room as him. Harry quickly grew uncomfortable, so instead he opted to not look their way, keeping his gaze on Teddy. But it was a short lived feat, as Kingsley began to speak.

"Harry," his deep voice boomed, forcing Harry to not only look up but stand up to greet him. "Harry, this is Delireax Gurt," the taller of the two men shook forward to shake his hand firmly. "And Igius Monsen."

Monsen then too stepped forward to shake his hand, suppressing a very large grin as he said, "It is a pure honor to meet you, Mr. Potter." Harry muttered a thanks and then turned his attention back to Kingsley waiting for an explanation as to why these two had come, and who exactly they were.

"Heads of the Office of Aurors, temporary." Kingsley announced, making a strong emphasis on the last word. Temporary. Ever thing is temporary now days, it seems. Harry is temporarily living in the burrow, while hermione is temporarily in Australia. Kingsley is the temporary minister and teddy is temporarily with Bill and Fleur. "They'd only be here for a moment, there is more to discuss. Please, have a seat. Miss Weasley, so glad you could make it." Everyone took a seat, filling the chairs that were placed in a wide circle around a table filled with snack foods. The two Aurors sat nearest to fire place, with one Weasley brother on each side. Next to Bill was Fleur holding Teddy and Ginny was next to Charlie, followed by Harry next to Kingsley, completing the circle.

"Harry, I first wanted to let you know that the Post-Dark Year Educational Progression plan has been approved by all those on board in the ministry, and all students will be receiving their letters within the next two weeks explaining what will be happening at Hogwarts."

"Which is?" Ginny asked quickly before Kingsley could move on to the next subject.

"In sum, all students will be asked to return. First through sixth years will be asked to either repeat their year or in certain circumstances may test to see if they can continue on regularly in their schooling. Only seventh years will be allowed to decide for them selves whether to repeat their year or, without question, end their schooling indefinitely. All who decide the latter will receive their diplomas by mail. All new first years, meaning those who were not previously students, will be separated from the repeating first years, as if there were an eighth class."

"That," Gurt interjected, "is why _we_ are here. The minister has mentioned to us that upon making this plans, you expressed your lack of will to return for your seventh year." Harry nodded. Harry remembered saying this just earlier this month just as well as he remembered Professor Mcgonagall's face when he did. He, Professor Mcgonagall, Kingsley and a handful of professors from Hogwarts were the ones who came up with this path. Construction at the castle was to be finished the week after, and they all agreed that measures and decisions must be made immediately. "Right then, since we know your goal is to one day become an Auror, we would like to herby extend an invitation for you, along with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, to begin training as soon as September. Of course training is mandatory, but you can be assured that the job is yours if you three so wish to have it."

"Really?" Harry gasped.

"Yes, of course. We should then take that as a yes?" Monsen chuckled.

"Yes, indeed!" Harry smiled largely.

"And you will extend our invitation to those mentioned?" Harry nodded, though he had a slight thought that Hermione would decline, he knew Ron would be just as excited as he. "Well then, I guess we should be off, you should be expecting an owl from us shortly," with that the two stood up and walked out of the pub briskly.

"Oh, don't mind them," Kingsley assured him, "they are quite annoyed with my telling them that they may not be here for the full meeting, they'll get over it." Bill and Charlie laughed in such a manor that told him that Monsen and Gurt were not very much respected in the wizardry world. Temporary, he reminded himself.

"Should we be going as well, 'Bolt?" Charlie broke his cackling to ask. Kingsley rolled his eyes and proceeded to speak towards Harry.

"Harry, there are a number of things which I must discuss with you, and I'd ask you to please refrain from interrupting until I've finished." Harry nodded and allowed the minister to continue. "Firstly, I wish to let you know that I and Minevra Mcgonagall have been promoted to full time posts," So professor Mcgonagall is now headmistress, Harry thought quietly. Looks like now is the time when temporary is becoming permanent. "I am sure that you are aware of the current conditions of the ministry, offices are solidifying all around, and reforming." Of course Harry knew, he had been working with Kingsley every step along the way, helping to rebuild the ministry after its near destruction. "Not just with Hogwarts reopening, a strong feat, but also with memorials being set up, people are beginning to get on with their business.

"Of course, healing takes time. It is important to rebuild. Of course, the ministry is up and nearly running with its usual efficiency, though I must admit the promotions and such are difficult to adjust to. We have the problem, currently, of some ministry employees, especially one certain employee, that I know you are very well familiar with. Dolores Umbridge. She, as you very well know, and alike to many workers, were very rooted in the death-eater type mentality of the war, and though they have since been fired from their posts, it is a mater of concern that they be safe. We do not want any more deaths, or executions. The same deal goes for the remainder of the death-eaters. We can't try them, as most may have been under the imperious curse, it is impossible to tell, or other-wise forced to uphold such beliefs, and it would simply be regressive to hold the past years against them.

"Some, like the Malfoys, have subject to the new regime, you could say, and they have been such rewarded, though it is unclear as of now what to do with those less willing. I only wanted to warn you about this, inform you of the debates that are most likely sure to pursue. You have a right to know that many of the remainders keep tension associated with you, especially those who were closest to Voldemort himself. They are all under high security and will not have any opportunity to get to you, I assure you." Harry hadn't known he should worry about his safety, now he was wondering if for the last two months he had been in mortal danger still. "What is most important is that There was a story in process of being released which we fear you should prepare yourself for," Kingsley began with a much more grave tone, "as you well know many people are demanding information from you, demaning a full account, and we will stick by you with whatever you decide to or to not release. But, when answers are not given, rumors are started."

"What rumors?" Charlie asked, breaking the vow of silence, "what more can they make up about him? Apparently no one in attendance knew what Kingsley was talking about.

Kingsley straightened up his posture, "Well, in fact, its not so much about Harry." Harry sat taller now as well. "It is about you, Ginny." He turned to look at Ginny Weasley but Ginny didn't turn to look at him, instead she stayed gazing into the fire, unfazed.

"The diary?" Ginny asked in a diminutive voice. The diary? Harry thought to himself. As in, Riddle's Diary? Harry saw a quick flash of a much younger Ginny laying unconscious in the depths of the Chamber of the Chamber of Secrets.

"The diary, what does the bloody diary have to do with anything?" Charlie nearly shouted standing up.

"Tom Riddle's Diary was left in the Malfoy's mansion, and after Voldemort died, a group of order supporters ransacked the place, most likely thinking the Malfoys had died or would never return. As a show of power, they stormed the house. They found nothing, someone had gone through and taken anything that would amount to anything. All dangerous or worthwhile things, gone, never to be found. We don't know who had taken everything, only that whoever it was obviously didn't think to pay attention to the small, destroyed, diary on the bookcase." Harry pictured the book in his mind, no he probably wouldn't have seen any significance in it either, if he had not known it's purpose. "One of the men grabbed it, simply because he could," Kingsley continued, "And upon opening the diary black blood began to ooze from it, revealing writing."

Kingsley looked again at Ginny, who was now hiding her face completely with her long hair. "What writing?" Bill demanded.

"I was possessed, remember." Ginny reminded them all quietly.

"Writings done by Ginny," Ginny coughed notably, "yes, true, while under possession of the Dark Lord. None the less, in Ginny's name. They revealed her soul in them, depths of darkness. Plans for murder, of many people, all people known by Ginny at the time, professors and such. Mcgonagall, Dumbledore, Molly and Arthur, and so on. Delicately planed out attacks on people, with step by step instructions and all. Weaknesses, faults, ways and means to go about performing the deeds. The most detailed, of course, being about you, Harry."

Harry was infuriated with the accusatory tone in the minister's voice. Kinglesy knew Ginny, personally, he knew she would never really make a list like this, never. He began to yell, "She was possessed! It wasn't her, it was him! It was him all along! Tom Riddle! Forcing her to write those things!" Teddy woke up from the slumber he had found in Fleur's arms, letting out a long cry.

"Harry!" Ginny groaned.

"Harry, we know this, but others don't, and if you don't know the truth, the evidence seems thick. And besides, there is stuff Dumbledore and Ginny and I kept secret. Things we didn't know would be left on the pages after it's defeat, things we thought had disappeared for good," Kingsley interrupted, "but apparently we were wrong."

"So what does that mean?" Fleur asked in a much more serene voice than any of the men in the room had used.

"It means, in short, that Ginny is in danger. If those pages are ever released, as we will try our hardest to prevent, people will want justice. While with most death-eaters people find humanity in sparing them, we find that having such a personal and detailed account would make her more subject to punishment, it is still fresh."

"Excuse me, did you just- DEATH-EATER!" Harry rose to his feet in an absolute frenzy.

"Well, the diary would make it appear as though she was, or even more, as if she was quite close to him, closer than Bellatrix Lestrange, or the Lucious Malfoy or even Severus Snape ever were." Snape is what made Harry completely snap; for Kingsley of all people to call Severus Snape a loyal companion of Tom Riddle. His fists curled and his body grew quite cold, he was losing it.

"Harry," Ginny said in a cautious tone, it was her tone that set Bill in action now as well, he went and yanked Harry's shoulder to pull him back, away from the minister. Harry allowed himself to ponder for a moment how much trouble he would be in for breaking the minister of magic's nose.

Kingsley stood up in a much more presidential fashion, "would you please sit down, I am not done." he motioned Harry back to his previous seat, but Bill took it, giving Harry his seat, further from Kingsley, and, Harry realized, Ginny. "We are fortunate to have found out about this before it is released. The Daily Prophet-."

"Oh of course the Daily Prophet," Harry snarled as Kingsley shot him a very crossed look.

"-Has forewarned us that they have received a tip about the diary and its contents from an anonymous source, which is currently in contact and sending them the pages and they are planning to run a series on it. They have, however, agreed that if we find probably cause for them to not post it then they will refrain and submit completely to the rulings of the ministry. They have agreed that in the case that such cause is found, they will also give up the name of their source. We should be grateful for their attitude about the whole thing, they have no legal obligation to be so generous about the situation," he reminded them all. "Ginny, I will need to speak to you in private about this all, but now is not the time. I must ask you all if you could excuse me and Harry for just one moment."

This at least Bill and Charlie were expecting. They both stood up, and then Bill helped Fleur up and Charlie took Ginny's hand. They all five, including Teddy who Fleur very reluctantly gave to Ginny, walked out of the pub onto the bustling muggle street. Harry, who now felt very off being on opposite sides of the person with whom he was having a conversation with, looked to Kingsley and waited for him to speak.

"Don't worry about Ginny, she'll be at school, no one can hurt her there," Kingsley pointed out as though it was supposed to make Harry feel a bit easier about the whole thing. Yet, all he thought was that Kingsley must not remember how kids at Hogwarts can be. "There's more," he said in a very grim, dark voice.

"Of course there is," Harry mumbled.

"Again, allow me to let this all out before you interrupt. We need you to come out of hiding, you are going to have to face the world soon enough, and we ask that it is before the start of term at Hogwarts. I know you must not like it but there is a certain place you hold in all our lives and people have begun to get uneasy not seeing your face. You have always been the face of the war, since you were a baby, now you are the face of the victory and people need to see it.

"And I must say it again, I still think it is ill advised for you to not return to school but, well so be it I assume. Since you will not be at school then, you can be sure that there is much work at the ministry for you to be doing. Also, I have been asked by the muggle prime minister to share his thanks for your work at restoring 'the whole situation'."

"Excuse me," he dared to interrupt, "how's this all so important that you had to send them out?" he motioned towards the door.

"This was sent to my office anonymously." Kingsley reached very deep into the pocket of his robe and pulled from it a very heavy piece of metal. He held it out as if to give it to Harry to examine, but he did not dare touch it. Who had found it? It was worn, obviously, he could tell, and the whole of it seemed completely irreconcilable. "With this note," he reached again into his pocket, this time pulling out a much lighter object, this Harry took. Before even reading it, Harry knew it. He knew the writing, and whose hand must have written it. He imagined the hand, dark and appearing very much to be decaying. He stood up very quickly and gasped audibly.

"It is important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting," the card read.


End file.
